


Left of a Miracle

by I_cant_find_a_name



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e04 Detour, Episode: s05e05 The Post-Modern Prometheus, Episode: s05e06 Christmas Carol, Episode: s05e07 Emily, Episode: s08e13 Per Manum, Episode: s08e21 Existence, F/M, IVF Arc (X-Files)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_cant_find_a_name/pseuds/I_cant_find_a_name
Summary: Using the flashbacks from Per Manum, alongside the early season 5 episodes, this tells the story of lost hope as Scully goes through the IVF process and the impact this had on the relationship between her and Mulder.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially I thought the show writers dodged a bullet in Per Manum, choosing not to include Scully asking for Mulder's sperm and ended up deciding I couldn't diss them for that and not attempt it myself...  
> So yeah, this lifts scenes from various episodes and puts them into the light of the IVF arc we didn't know was happening when it was apparently happening.
> 
> I know they retconned this storyline in seasons 10-11 by switching William into Mulder's brother rather than his son. I do not accept that storyline; it's utterly ridiculous and pointless so I refuse to acknowledge it. William's father is Fox fricking Mulder and I will happily tell Chris Carter that to his face. That storyline essentially meant that CSM "raped" Scully in a fashion. It disgusts me and I don't think Carter et al gave it due thought beyond giving angst to Mulder.

She found herself walking aimlessly in the park, incapable of functioning, overwhelmed by the devastation that she could never have a child. She was one of the lucky ones; she had survived. She had fought and beaten the cancer triggered by her abduction. She alone had lived where all before her had died. So much of her survival, her miracle recovery, had been thanks to Mulder's tenacious quest for answers; his belief in the government conspiracy around her abduction had seen him discover the duplicity of Dr Scanlon's treatment, designed to ensure the speedy deaths of her fellow abductees. She alone had been saved from that fate; she alone had been given the opportunity to replace the implant which had cured her cancer. Not for the first time, she owed Mulder her life.

For now, though, she just wanted to grieve, to take time to accept this awful revelation, this devastating news, which stripped her of her future hopes and dreams. She hadn’t been ready to have children, she was still too focused on her career, but she had always wanted them eventually. She felt like a failure; a woman who couldn’t conceive. The one thing that defined womanhood was the creation of new life, of growing a new, wonderfully unique human being from just two cells. She could never do that. She was never going to feel her unborn child moving within her, never be kept awake at night as it kicked her rib cage, never go through the agony and ecstasy of childbirth, never take joy and pleasure in watching that tiny baby grow into adulthood under her care. She would never experience that unceasing, infinity of love for another human in the way a mother loves a child. There would be no waiting up anxiously for the teenager late to return home, or have to deal with the raging hormones and arguments that would go along with that. There would be no moment of pride at a child’s graduation. She would miss tending to them when they were sick. She would never know what it is to be a mother and it tore her apart.

She knew she should be at work, of course. Mulder would be worried she wasn’t there. He worried so much more about her since the cancer. He’d always been protective of her; that had grown over the years as they’d got to know one another, as they’d been through ever more traumas and dangerous situations. She caught him looking at her sometimes with such a care and love in his eyes, and that love had confused her. Was it just the love and trust of their working partnership? She’d never been paired with one agent for as long as she had been with him so maybe it’s just what happens over time? Except she didn’t think it was that; he would look at her with such fascination, like he was almost in awe of her and it made her chest tighten – not in a bad way, but like her heart was leaping. She tried not to let him see that though; she was determined to remain professional but it came out in touches, embraces, even in little gestures like rolling her eyes at him.

He was the person she told first about her cancer diagnosis. It should have been her mom, her family, but she wanted him, she _needed_ him beside her, holding her, reassuring her. She needed him to hold her shattered body together. Bill and her mom had told her off for confiding in Mulder first. But Mulder was first: the first person she thinks about in the morning, the first person she turns to when she needs support. And it was Mulder who she would go to imminently, who she would share this devastating news with... And she felt her chest tighten and tears fill up her eyes as she realised that it was Mulder who she felt she was most letting down with this news.

With that thought, she found herself overwhelmed; sobs wracked her body. She was grateful to see there was a park bench nearby, as she reached for it, suddenly losing feeling in her legs. In this moment of grief and failure she was overwhelmed by the realisation that she was in love with Mulder, that she felt guilty that it was _his_ child she wouldn’t be able to have. It was a difficult revelation, one she wasn’t expecting, one she didn’t know what to do about. Why now? Why does losing her ability to have a baby make her suddenly starkly aware that the thing that had been on the periphery of her awareness, the person her heart had locked on to, was now all she could think about? Surely just processing the appointment’s devastating news of her infertility is enough to deal with right now? She pushed it aside, tried to push it back into the box, but it was all unwieldy now: no matter how she tried to lock it down, to grapple with it and force the lid back down on it, it was springing inconveniently out, stopping her from neatly packing it back down and locking it away.

 _How could he love a woman who can never give him a child?_ She rolled her eyes at herself: when has Mulder shown even the least bit of interest in children?! She couldn’t imagine him as a father... And yet she realised that she wouldn’t have settled for any other man to be the father of her children. _And why am I even thinking about him right now?!_

It was her loss, in reality, and hers alone. If she had been in a relationship, a marriage, she would share the grief, but she wasn’t. There was no one holding her hand, sharing the despair of their shattered hopes and dreams. In some ways she was relieved that she wasn’t with anyone; the guilt she would feel for ruining their hopes would have only increased her sense of failure. Instead she would go into any new relationship with this information, allowing them to walk away before anything got serious, if having children was that important to them.

She could not do the most basic role of being woman. The very essence of what it is to be female, and she couldn’t do it. She tried to tell herself that that is not the sole reason we exist for; that she would never judge a woman who proactively decided _not_ to have children as a failure; indeed, she would deeply respect them. Hell, she would never view anyone as a failure for being infertile; it’s not their fault that biology denies them their own offspring.

He wouldn’t care about if he had children or not. He would be happy to just have her love, wouldn’t he?

She went over and over these thoughts in her head until tiredness overwhelmed her and all thought seemed to empty from her head. She stood up, almost dazed, and made her way to the office, to the basement, to him.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn’t in the office. She tried to get her brain in gear and remember if they should have been in a meeting somewhere. Maybe a new case had landed and he was in a briefing with Skinner? She didn’t know but stepped back on the elevator and punched in the floor number for Skinner’s office. The doors slid open to find him there waiting, waiting for her. She felt sick. She didn’t know what to say to him.

His face had lit up when he saw her; as she’d suspected he had been concerned about her not turning up at work and had been looking for her. He noticed her low mood as he joined her in the elevator and looked worried. She told him she’d had a doctor’s appointment and time had got away from her, she smiled weakly, briefly making eye contact with him to try to put him at ease. It didn’t work.

“Is anything the matter?” he asked and she could feel his anxiety even though he tried to hide it from her.

She wanted to lie. She wanted to run and hide but, more than anything, she wanted to be gathered up in his loving arms and just cry. She wanted to apologise to him also, to tell him to ignore his feelings for her and find a real woman, a woman who can give him children, can be healthy without fears of cancer relapses and his heart being broken. She put up her defences and glanced at him briefly before looking away again.

“Nothing, no; I just, uh, I went for a walk,” hoping he’d let it drop.

It didn’t work. He knew her too well.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged, paused briefly and she knew his eyes had softened even though she couldn’t look at his face. “Then what’s wrong?”

_I can’t do this. I can’t tell him._ She was worried that he might even go off on a pointless quest to save her somehow and she didn’t have the energy. She wanted to go home, pull on her PJs and hide under her duvet. His eyes were fixed on her. She let out a heavy sigh of resignation.

“I’m... I’m sorry I haven’t told you,” she stumbled over her words still unable to give him more than fleeting glances, preferring instead the floor of the elevator beyond him. “I don’t know why I haven’t... I mean you were always there for me during my illness but, umm...”

She trailed off. She felt her chest tighten and burn as she valiantly, determinedly, fought the tears that would result in him enfolding her in his arms, even though that was exactly what she needed. She couldn’t look at him, but she knew his eyes, filled with love and gentility, never left her. He leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Don’t make me guess.” His voice was soft and he had a small, encouraging smile.

She gathered her strength. “I was left unable to conceive with whatever test that they did on me.”

She met his eyes and paused. His eyes didn’t flicker. They just rested on her, patiently... And there was something else in there... _What was that? What is he thinking?_ She couldn’t pin it down and yet she suddenly found herself grow in strength, she found herself deciding this wasn’t the end, even though she didn’t know what she could possibly do to fight against it.

“And I am not ready to accept that I will never have children.”

She realised that she and Mulder had never exactly talked about the future, of their personal dreams, and why would they? It was irrelevant. But in that moment, she wondered if Mulder had ever envisioned her having a family before.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the basement where the two of them resided, hidden away from the real agents with their normal caseload. Mulder stepped out of the lift but then stopped, turning back to her. Again, she felt that there was something he hadn’t told her, that he had some secret knowledge about something.

“Scully, there’s, um,” it was his turn to stumble through telling her something. She assumed he was probably trying to find suitable words to comfort her, but no, there was more.

“There’s something I haven’t told you either,” he continued slowly. “And I hope you, uh, forgive me and understand why I would have kept it from you.”

She was confused. “What?”

“During my investigations into your illness I found out the reason why you were left barren.” She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. He knew? She wasn’t dodging his gaze anymore, rather she was drilling into him with her steely blue eyes.

“Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe what he had just said and stepped forward, her hand stopping the elevator doors from splitting them apart. “You found them?”

“I, I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were ok,” he tried to reassure her.

She started to feel anger bubbling up inside of her and, right now, it was more for Mulder than for the men who’d done this to her. _How could he have kept this from me?_

“I don’t believe this,” was all she managed to say, but she wanted him to continue, to tell her of the fate of her eggs.

“Scully, you were deathly ill and I,” he tried to explain. “I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.”

She flinched; the hope of a few seconds ago squashed back down again.

“Is that what it was? It was bad news?”

He gave the slightest of nods. “The doctor said that the ova weren’t viable.”

She nodded slowly. Anger was filling her: anger at what those men had done to her, anger at their control and destruction but, more than anything in that moment, she was angry at him. At Mulder. The man only half an hour earlier she had felt so guilty about potentially letting down if the love she felt between them were to come to fruition. But now? She couldn’t wait to get away from him, and he knew it.

She jabbed her finger on the panel of buttons up to the floor where she could get the hell out of that suddenly claustrophobic building, get in her car and just drive.

“I want a second opinion,” she said, not completely masking her anger and welling tears from him.

The doors started to close and Mulder tried to stop them, to stop her, knowing how he had upset her with his secrecy. She looked up at him. Her eyes pleaded with him to let her go and she tried to swallow down the lump in the back of her throat. She could see in his eyes that he didn’t want her to go, that he wanted to tell her more, talk it through, but she needed air, she needed space, she needed freedom from that oppressive basement.

She knew he could see her fighting tears. She knew that if she simply stepped towards him, he would gather her in his arms and she would sob into his shoulder and feel safe and loved, but she was too angry and hurt by his deception. She looked at him with her silent request to be alone and he relented, let his arms drop to his side and the doors slid between them, separating them.

Her eyes burned with tears but she kept her gaze on the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone as she made her way to the parking lot. She got in her car, keys in the ignition and hardly looked around her before hitting the gas, rapidly reversing out of her space and away. She wanted to escape.

She drove a while without direction, she didn’t know how long for, but eventually pulled over by a sports field where kids spent their weekends playing Little League. It was empty but for a couple of folk walking their dogs around the perimeter, and no one could disturb her. She slumped, her forehead against the top of her steering wheel and she cried.

Time had escaped her. She didn’t know how long she’d sat there, but she’d wept until she could weep no more, her spirit exhausted. She turned on the ignition and slowly pulled off, the polar opposite of her earlier escape, and drove home.

The journey was filled with that eerie quiet which followed her to her apartment. There was sound around her – sirens, car horns, shouting, doors opening and closing – but she didn’t register them. She had stood under the shower head for what felt like an eternity of time not moving, just letting the hot water wash down her until it started to shiver as the hot water tank emptied. She had pulled on her PJs and slippers and collapsed on the settee, flicking on the TV to something mindless which she half watched.

The evenings were drawing in now, it was Autumn and she could see leaves lazily falling from the trees outside as the daylight faded. The sky was a sheet of cloud; not thick enough for rain, not thin enough to be burnt off by the sun. It just seemed grey, like she felt.

A knock on the door broke the inane talking on the TV and she slowly got up and padded over to see it was Mulder through the peep hole. She sighed and unlocked the door. She wasn’t angry anymore, she was just tired.

“Hey,” he said, cautiously. “I just wanted to pop around and give you the details of the fertility clinic where I got your ova stored.”

He didn’t move to come into the apartment but simply held out a piece of note paper with the name of the clinic, the doctor, the address and phone number scrawled in his handwriting. He looked at her gently as she looked at the piece of paper and slowly took it from him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she stared at the paper. Her eyes fluttered as she reminded herself he was there and she looked up at him, and saw how he was studying her face. His eyes were sad, she thought.

“I appreciate that you stole them back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he sounded almost bemused by her thanks. “They’re yours. They should never have been taken.”

She was meeting his gaze and gave him a small smile, not dissimilar to one she gave him in the hospital when she was being treated for her cancer. She looked exhausted, she had been crying and that made her eyes puffy. He put his left hand around the back of her head and gently pulled her towards him, resting his forehead against hers. It wasn’t an embrace, but it was something they had grown accustomed to; a sign of love and affection, almost like their own secret way of kissing without actually taking that step in their relationship.

She loved the smell of him when they were close like this. It felt so inexplicably comfortable, like home on a cruel winter’s night. She rolled her forehead against his briefly before stepping into the gap between them and wrapping her arms around him as he gathered her up. And there they stood and again she noted how time had stopped working again. It was just him and her.

Eventually, he shifted, signalling it was time for him to leave. He kissed the top of her head, lingering there breathing in the scent of hair, before pulling himself free and nodding a goodbye before turning to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

The following day she phoned an old family friend from church. Helen was ten years older than Dana and, as such, had often babysat when her parents went out to some old navy event. Even though she rarely saw her, they always enjoyed catching up every now and then. Helen and her husband had struggled for years to conceive and ended up having twins via IVF and it was this Scully wanted to chat to Helen about.

After the pleasantries, Dana explained to Helen that a colleague from work was having difficulties getting pregnant and was looking for a recommendation for a good practitioner. Helen happily gave her the details and offered to meet up with the couple and share their experiences. Dana thanked her and said she’d let them know that, promising nothing.

Her hand shaking, she dialled the number for the clinic. The receptionist answered and she explained that she had had cancer and had some ova frozen in the hope of one day being able to have a child and would like to meet with Dr Parenti following a recommendation.

“Are your ova stored at this facility, ma’am?” enquired the cheerful voice down the phone.

“Er, no, they’re at the GW...”

“Oh yes, The GW Medical Faculty, that’s fine,” she leapt in, and then intrigued: “Is there any reason why you’ve decided to switch to us?”

“Oh, they said, uh, they weren’t convinced that the eggs were viable,” her voice shaking with fear that she was only going to be let down again. “I'd like a second opinion and a friend recommended Dr Parenti.”

“Of course,” smiled the receptionist down the phone. “Can you come in on Thursday?”

Half-relieved, half-nervous, she booked her appointment before contacting the GW and asking for the medical report from the initial assessment and her ova to be transferred to Zeus Genetics.

Back in the office, the matter was not talked about. She knew that Mulder wanted to ask; she kept seeing him looking at her in the corner of her eye, the air pregnant with questions not asked. She knew he didn’t ask because he knew that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not with him and, he suspected, not with anyone.

She was quite a private person; she didn’t like to show vulnerability, especially at work in such a male environment. She didn’t ever want her colleagues to see her as lesser, weaker; sometimes she thought she should embrace her femininity in order to show them how capable women are. Lesser and weaker her ass! No man would quietly suffer the agony of period pain for 3 days a month whilst on the surface looking exactly the same as any other day; smiling, working hard, attending meetings all whilst their insides cramp and ache as the body seeks to force out redundant – and sometimes ill-timed – blood. She knew women were stronger but, for now, she needed to conform to the beating of men’s drum.

“I have an appointment this afternoon,” she broke the silence between them. She hadn’t really wanted to say anything but had been unable to get an appointment completely outside of work hours. “So I will be leaving at 4:30.”

She looked over at him briefly, before looking back at her computer.

“Sure,” he smiled. “Let me know if there’s anything you need me to cover for you.”

“Well, unless you want to write up this morning’s autopsy report,” she grinned, “I’m good!”

He grimaced at the thought of the savaged remains of the man from their latest case.

“No, I will leave you to that one!” his eyes twinkled at her. She smiled back, grateful for his attempt to show support when they both knew she was anxious about the outcome of Dr Parenti's assessment of her ova.

As she got up to leave, he got up too, standing awkwardly near where their jackets hung, his hands buried in his pockets as she reached for her coat and put it on. She cautiously met his gaze and smiled, knowing he was wanting to wish her well but not sure if he should. He looked down at the floor and she turned towards the door.

“Hey Scully,” his voice broke the silence, a little hoarse. She smiled to herself and turned back to him. “I hope it’s good news.”

She nodded, smiled her thanks and left.

She felt sick with nerves. This was the only chance she would ever get of having children. A month ago, had she have been asked if she wanted children, she would have said yes, however not for a few years yet, that her career was her priority. Now, sat in the lobby of the clinic, it was all she could think about. If she didn’t take this opportunity now, she might never have it again.

She hadn’t really allowed herself to think about what she would do if the initial assessment was overturned, the sickness in the pit of her stomach had been focused on the fear of being told there was no chance ever. She wasn’t an optimist, but nor was she a pessimist either; she was a realist. She based her opinions and thoughts around science, on facts, and her medical background told her not to get her hopes up, especially because one doctor had already declared her eggs unviable. She had to be certain though. If she hadn’t got a second opinion, she would always regret it and wonder if there had been a shred of hope.

Her thoughts stopped dead in their tracks as Dr Parenti strode through the door into the waiting room. She stood as he addressed her, her heart in her throat. His smile was warm and welcoming.

“Ms Scully?” he confirmed. “Got a good report for you. I’ve looked at the ova you’ve given me and consulted with some of my colleagues. We all feel that with the proper approach we might be successful. Got a good chance to get you pregnant.”

She let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as his comments overwhelmed her. She felt her legs going from under her, so she reached for the chair behind her and eased herself down into it.

“Oh Goh...” the words caught in her throat and she didn’t get to the final consonant as shock and relief washed over her. “It’s too good to be true!”

“I don’t want to lay odds,” he expanded, “but it’s not out of the realm of possibility if we start soon.”

She looked back up at him shocked, hardly believing what she just heard.

“We can start right away?” This was unreal. She hadn’t really allowed herself to think beyond this moment.

“Well, you need a father of course,” Dr Parenti reminded her. “I can get you genetic counselling on finding an anonymous donor if that’s what you want... Unless you already have someone in mind?”

“Yeah... I, er...” She stumbled over the thought of how to ask him, but there was no question in her mind as to his identity. She’d known it was him the minute she thought she couldn’t have children. “I just have to figure out how to ask him.”


	4. Chapter 4

She lay in bed, wide awake. It was gone 2am and her alarm was set for 6am. Her mind was racing with the excitement, relief, joy and fear of being able to start the process of becoming pregnant. She would never have anticipated that she would be considering such action so young but she couldn’t risk the degradation of her ova when they were in such short supply.

She mulled over how she would manage work and having a child; she wouldn’t be able to just jump on a flight to investigate the latest X-file to land on Mulder's desk. She’d have to take a job locally, perhaps focusing on autopsies, maybe training new recruits? Or returning to medicine? She felt a pain in her chest as she realised that she would have to give up working with Mulder every day.

Mulder. How on earth was she going to manage that conversation? Perhaps she was being silly. Perhaps she should just pick out a donor with similar features to him? But she didn’t want just anybody’s baby growing inside her; she wanted his.

It was so ridiculous. He is just her partner, a colleague. They aren’t dating, they’ve never dated, he’s never asked her out, they’ve never even kissed. But how she wished they would. She thought about what it would be like to kiss him. She imagined it as a soft, gentle kiss, his lips lingering on hers, before slowly deepening it, his tongue gently gliding against hers. She thought how an urgency would then kick in as it deepened; an insatiable desire to rip off his clothes, to feel his skin against hers... She felt herself flushing, arousal rushing down through her as she berated herself for thinking like that about her best friend.

Did he ever think of her like that? She hoped he did, she thought he probably did... The way he looked at her, it was different to the way he looked at anyone else. They just never talked about it. They were perhaps too embarrassed? Too professional? Not him, no, he’s never bothered himself with rules and regulations, but he has always been so respectful of her.

_This is insane. You are out of your mind thinking you can ask this of him. How can I?  
_

What would he say? Did she think he would accept? Or would he run for the hills like so many men presented with a request for commitment? He probably never thought about having kids. He doesn’t even seem to think about dating... Sex yes, absolutely... That’s quite a habit he has with porn, she mused. She didn’t really like that he indulged in that, but felt that it was better than him actually going out with another woman. She wanted to be the only woman he would ever make love to again.

_We haven’t had sex. We haven’t even kissed. What the hell am I thinking? He’ll think I’m insane. We’re not a couple; we’re work colleagues. Asking him to be the father of my child? That is so inappropriate. It’s asking too much of him._

No matter how much she argued and rationalised against asking him, she always came back to the only truth she knew: she loved him and she wanted to have his child. It made her feel sick with nerves. She needed to stop fretting over it and make a plan of how to ask Mulder. And if he says no then she’ll pick out a suitable sperm donor.

_Mulder. How to ask Mulder. It will have to involve a lot of alcohol. I should turn up at his place one night with a bottle of wine, some beers and pizza, and wait until I have had enough drink to ask him.  
_

It would still be weird. She blushed when she remembered that night they’d drunk a bottle of wine on her couch; how he’d leaned in to kiss her, and how much she wanted to kiss him until he crashed through the door of her apartment and she realised that she wasn’t about to kiss Mulder but Eddie Van Blundht. That was embarrassing, but it had put it out there between them: if he asked, she would kiss him, would date him, would make love to him... He just needed to ask, but he never did.

Maybe he lacked the confidence that she now had to find to ask him for something so personal. She wanted his sperm, for fuck’s sake!

_Fucking hell this is madness. It’d be so much easier if we were actually having sex. I so desperately want to feel him around me, in me, kissing me, stroking me.  
_

Again, she felt a liquid heat between her legs and tried to push past the thought. She needed to invite him for dinner at the weekend... Except that felt too pushy, too orchestrated. It would be easier to get a meal and a few drinks with him one night when they’re stuck in a motel on a case. They never gave that a second thought and she felt she could drink a sufficient amount of alcohol to find the courage to ask. Yes, that could work, she resolved.

_Oh damn it; we have that god-awful conference next week. He is going to be a nightmare to control. He will act like a child!_

Her concerns had doubled when they were told which agents they’d be catching a ride with. They were so obnoxiously saccharine and enthusiastic: it was going to be hard for her not to shoot them, let alone Mulder. She hoped against hope that Mulder would suddenly come up with an urgent, important case so they could dodge it again like they had successfully done up until now, but she had watched Mulder scratching about the office all week; almost manic with desperation to find that case that would salvage them from fricking pyramids of office furniture.

And then an idea started to formulate in her mind: irrespective as to whether they ended up at the conference, or escaping to a motel in the back of beyond with a slither of a questionable circumstance masquerading as an X-file, she could turn up at his hotel room with alcohol. Hell, if they end up at the conference, she knew he would be the one suggesting they play hooky and disappear to a bar or just hide out in one of their rooms... She even thought that they could end up so drunk at the conference they could end up actually sleeping together, but she tried to brush that thought back under the rug quickly. She would get them both tiddly and, with that bit of Dutch courage, she would ask him.

_Ask him to be the father of my child. No biggie. Oh crap.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

She wasn’t wrong. She was ready to shoot herself, let alone Agents Kinsley and Stonecypher. If she somehow ended up in hell, it would be an eternity in this car right now with their inane positivity... But at least she’d have Mulder right beside her, because if this was painful for her then it was downright agony for him.

Mulder was making it damned hard for her to keep a straight face with his little quips only she could hear. Even when he was responding to questions from the two oh-so-chipper agents, he was pulling wisecracks and laying on the sarcasm which Kinsley and Stonecypher seemed utterly oblivious to and it was taking all her energy not to fall to pieces in a fit of giggles. She thought how she could absolutely just drop her ask for Mulder's sperm into the conversation and it would be a relief to him as it would sure as shit shut up Dumb and Dumber... Although it probably wouldn’t because they would enthusiastically embrace the positivity and openness of their conversation and how they were maximising their working relationship with such frankness and trust.

She was wondering how badly injured she’d be if she just opened the door and made a jump for it when they saw the flashing lights of a roadblock ahead and the car slowed to a stop. Before she could even think, Mulder escaped from his seatbelt and was out the car and starting to ask questions of the people gathered ahead. Kinsley and Stonecypher seemed utterly confused by Mulder's behaviour, almost put out by it. They were worrying about not getting to the conference in time for their damned wine and cheese reception and Scully contemplated how horrific that would be to attend. Their annoyance at Mulder walking off into the woods sent her after him in order to extract him and get him to the conference neither of them wanted to attend. She half hoped this would be the diversion to get them out of spending another damn second with those assholes, but, on the other hand, this was a forest in the middle of nowhere and it was pissing it down, which did add a little shine to wine and cheese.

She could see her partner enthusiastically engaging in conversation with the female officer and she knew he was gone. There was no way she would be able to convince him to get back into the car and to the conference. She attempted it for the sake of Cheer Bear and Funshine Bear, but he was out of there.

“Mulder,” she looked at him half-pleading, half-resigned. “We’ve got this conference. They’re waiting.”

“Yeah,” he turned to her. “How do I say this without using any negative words, Scully?” playing on an earlier conversation in the car.

“You want me to tell them that you’re not going to make it to this year’s teamwork seminar.”

“Yeah, you see that?” he grabbed her arms, his face lit up with mischief. “We don’t need that conference. We have communication like that: unspoken. You know what I’m thinking.”

She shook her head in defeat as she watched him walk off after the woman and she turned back to break the news to their ride. She was relieved that Mulder had found the excuse they both wanted to get them out of the week-long torture, but he’d left her to take the rap for it as usual. She also found herself wishing that she could just communicate unspoken with him instead of having to find a way to ask him what she had to. Instead, she was pulling their bags out of the hire car trying to placate Kinsley and Stonecypher who were not remotely amused with them ditching the conference just because Mulder had found some tracks in a wood.

She dumped the bags in one of the patrol cars, checking with one of the officers for a place they could stay and if there was a shop near enough to it to buy some food and drinks. And then she waited for her partner to return to her side and on to the motel where she hoped she could get drunk enough to ask him to help her get pregnant.


	6. Chapter 6

She’d been a fool to think she could get Mulder to switch off from the case when he’d only just started. She knew that there was nothing that could stop him and his excited enthusiasm once he started to formulate ideas and theories.

He’d grinned when she arrived in his room with cheap wine and some cheese from the local store. They’d joked about how FBI policy meant that she shouldn’t even be in his room, let alone trying to get them drunk. She smiled to herself about how far past the rules it would be for her to have Mulder's baby, but she didn’t care. Before she even passed him his wine, he was once more absorbed in his investigation. He bounced ideas off her and she was surprised that he was so preoccupied with what she had assumed was the slimmest excuse to escape the conference but, of course, it wasn’t just that. She’d seen the spark in his eyes in the forest and knew that her plans were out the window along with the conference.

Before she knew it, he was up on his feet, pulling on his jacket. She couldn’t believe it. Only Mulder could get so absorbed in a seemingly superfluous element of an unsolved case that he fails to notice when a woman is blatantly flirting with him... maybe it was just her? No, she sighed, as he placated her with a promise to build their own tower of furniture upon his return, it wasn’t just her; he was oblivious to all women attempting to get his attention. Maybe he just didn’t think any woman would ever want him? Maybe he just didn’t think. All the same, she couldn’t help but smile to herself at the boyish charm and sparkle in his eyes as the door closed behind him.

She loved seeing him like that, like an excited puppy dog catching a new scent. As frustrating and annoying as he was, how oblivious he was to her flirting, she just couldn’t help but love him. There would be no awkward, drunken requests for him to jerk into a cup tonight. All she could do was drink the wine she’d just poured and head back to her room and settle into bed with her book.

Despite the rain, she had to admit that she much preferred being outdoors in the forest than being stuck in a worn out hotel conference hall, listening to the mindless dirge of an agent so piss-poor at their actual job, the only skill they brought to the FBI was a supposed knowledge of how to not annoy the shit out of your partner. As diversions go though, this was a beautiful one and she was quietly pleased that Mulder had stumbled upon it. Well, she was until shit went sideways with whatever it was out there picking off Officer Fazekas and Glaser. How Mulder managed to just sniff out strange cases was beyond her, and this was definitely, worryingly turning into an X-file. 

Here she was now, lost in the middle of the forest; the only people who knew how to get back to civilisation – the ones carrying the food and water – had disappeared, and she had discharged most of her clip into the undergrowth. Mulder was injured by the mysterious assailant, but somehow was the only person attacked in a manner that allowed him to shout and fight back long enough for her to get to him before being disappeared and leaving her alone. He seemed to be correct in his deduction that the predators were picking off the strongest first. Up until then she had been identified as the weakest, but now Mulder was injured making her the target. _Great_ she thought. Night was drawing in and she needed to keep him warm and safe.

They settled against the trunk of a fallen tree, covered in moss. It was damp; their clothes not protected by their rain coats were wet through and she was failing to get make a spark with her two stones to get a fire to burn. If Mulder's shoulder hadn’t been injured, she would have asked him to try but it was hopeless. She sat back beside him and pulled out her gun.

“What are you doing?” He looked at her perplexed.

“Trying to open my gun,” she said without looking up. “If I can separate the shell from the casing, maybe I can get the powder to ignite.”

“Oh. And maybe it’ll start raining weenies and marshmallows,” he grumbled sarcastically.

“Do I detect a hint of negativity?” she sparred.

“No. Yes... Actually yeah.”

She looked over at him, worried. He’d been badly injured and they were both cold and wet. She needed to get a fire going.

“Mulder, you need to keep warm. Your body's still in shock.”

“I was told once that the best way to regenerate body heat was to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with somebody else who's already naked,” he snuggled into her.

“Well, maybe if it rains sleeping bags, you'll get lucky.”

He looked at her, trying to read her. Her eyes were focused on trying to open the bullet but she’d had a little smirk on her face. If they had been in a different situation, she would have pursued the flirtatious banter but, right now, practical Scully was needed. Her preoccupation was getting at the gunpowder, on getting him warm.

It may seem like a bit of a camping trip, but the danger was very real. She knew that hypothermia kills far more people in the wild than the injuries they might have sustained. Mulder was weakened, they had no food and there was at least one creature in the woods trying to kill them. She didn’t want to concern her partner with the very real threat their situation posed, but she found herself thinking about how it wasn’t so long ago that she had been facing death due to her illness.

“Her illness.” Cancer. The word is so scary to people that they dare not say it; she didn’t use it very often either. The cancer, the abduction, the infertility: it was all interwoven. She could feel the threads of them entwined within the tapestry of her life. Yes, she had hoped that during this week she would be sat up late with Mulder, but this was a far more precarious state than she’d imagined they’d find themselves in. They could die out here and, yet, she found that an easier concept to deal with than being sat in a warm, dry motel room, wine in hand, asking him what felt like too impossible a question to even write.

“Have you thought seriously about dying?” she found herself asking.

“Yeah, once,” he responded, “when I was at the Ice Capades.”

She looked over at him and half-smiled but ignored his joke.

“When I was fighting my cancer,” she continued her thinking out loud, “I was angry at the injustice of it and its meaninglessness. And then I realised that that is the struggle – to give it meaning. To make sense of it. It’s like life.”

She thought how she couldn’t talk about this sort of thing with her family, nor any of her friends, but it seemed perfectly natural to talk to him about it. She knew he wouldn’t lock her down and refuse to talk about it like her mom or Bill would, he wouldn’t try to move the conversation rapidly on to cheerier topics like her friends; he would just listen and share his perspectives. She loved him for it; with him she could just _be_ and not worry about judgement. She didn’t think anyone understood her like he did, certainly nobody else respected her like he did.

“I think nature is supremely indifferent to whether we live or die,” Mulder replied. “I mean, if you’re lucky you get 75 years. If you’re really lucky you get 80 years. And if you’re extraordinarily lucky, you get to have 50 of those years with a decent head of hair.”

She chuckled. “I guess it’s like Las Vegas. The house always wins. Oh!” Finally, the bullet casing came loose: “Ta da!” she exclaimed happily.

“Go girl!” he applauded her.

She pulled herself up to the pile of sticks she’d gathered to light up and shook the contents of the casing on to it. He watched her, or rather he checked out her bottom as she leaned forward.

“Hey, who did you identify with when you were a kid? Wilma or Betty?”

She grinned at the random question. “I identified with Betty’s bustline.”

“Yes!” her partner enthusiastically agreed. “I did to!”

“Could never have been married to Barney though,” she commented. “The kids were cute.”

“But where are they today?” he mused.

She hit the two stones together until they created a spark. The spark landed on the gunpowder and there was a sudden rush of flames as it burnt and then the fire went out as promptly as it started. The wood was too wet to take. She turned to see his face somewhat bemused by her failed attempt but awaiting her answer. Anyone else would be confused by his analogy, but Scully knew his line of thought. Thousands of years on from the cartoon family, what would the children have evolved into?

“Moth men?” she sighed. “Really?”

Despite his injury, the cold and wet, Mulder's eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded. “Yeah, but there seem to be only two of them.”

She shot him her amused look, which he got at least once a week along with the latest insane leap of thought, before returning to him. She sat beside him and pulled him to her in order to keep him warm. He didn’t exactly help her with the movement, instead joked that he didn’t want to wrestle with her.

“Get over here,” she tried not to laugh. “I’m going to try and keep you warm,” and then apologised for accidentally hurting his shoulder.

Once cuddled in and resting on her lap, Mulder quietly said, “One of us has got to stay awake, Scully.”

She knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep. She was too worried about him, her mind running over their options and trying to come up with a plan to get back home safely; not to mention her concerns that the creatures might attack them again.

“You sleep, Mulder,” she said already distractedly looking around them, her arms holding his body to hers.

“If you get tired, you wake me.”

She knew he was worried about her and didn’t want her feeling like she had to protect them both, but there was no chance she was going to get to sleep tonight. “I’m not going to get tired.”

“Why don’t you sing something?”

She scrunched her face. There was no way she wanted to sing to him, not least of all because she knew she seriously lacked in ability. She refused but he persisted so in the end she unenthusiastically relented, singing until she felt his body relax against her as he drifted into sleep.

She was grateful when the rainclouds began to clear to reveal the stars and moon. The weak, silvery light enabled her to make out details, outlines of the trees and ferns around them, but the rustling of the breeze played tricks on her, tricking her to think that the moth men – or whatever the creatures were – were about to attack.

When the early light of dawn started to creep away the dark she relaxed more, although rationally she knew that all the attacks in the forest so far had been during the day and sunlight had done nothing to enable them to see their foe. She looked down at Mulder sleeping on her lap. He had kept her warm too but now he was applying a bit too much pressure on her bladder. She huffed a little laugh as she remembered that, only a few days ago, she had felt devastated that she would never experience their unborn child forcing her to take regular trips to the bathroom. Right now, she realised how annoying that would be in reality. Mulder often felt like a child she had to keep under control, and she imagined what their child would be like. She thought about his traits she’d want to see in the child; mischief for one, his eyes, his gentle protectiveness, his humour.

What would he think if he could read her mind right now, she thought? Utterly stumped, she assumed. Shocked by the attention he never notices. Confused: he wouldn’t know how to react... And yet, if he shared her feelings, she thought he would not hesitate in kissing her... Except maybe he would? Is he holding back because he thinks she’s not interested in him that way, or was it that he doesn’t think of her like that? Or is it fear? She was afraid. She wished it was easier to just know, to discuss it openly and decide how to act, but that wasn’t them. They felt most comfortable when they were uncomfortably dancing around the issue of their feelings for one another. She wasn’t sure they were ready to take that extra step yet.

He shifted his weight slightly and the pressure on her bladder increased. Carefully, slowly, she eased herself from under him, taking care to not wake him as she rested him down on to the ground. She walked in to the undergrowth so she was hidden from his view, all except her face that is. In these situations, it is so much easier for a boy, she thought. She’d like a boy. She would call him William, after both their fathers.


	7. Chapter 7

Exhausted, she dumped her bag by the door and went straight to her bathroom, where she turned the taps on; she needed a long, hot bath. She hadn’t been able to shake the cold damp feeling since they’d been found, despite having a hot shower in the motel before heading to the airport. She ached all over and she just wanted to lie back and soak. Whilst the bath ran, she fetched her bag and unpacked. She thought about the aborted attempt to ask Mulder and felt a sudden thirst for some wine. She poured herself a glass of red before sliding down into her bath. She could relax at last.

She was already in her pyjamas when she heard the knock on her door. She looked over at the clock, surprised to be getting a visitor, only to be more surprised that it was only 8:30pm. As she took another sip of red wine, she wandered over to her front door.

“Mulder! What are you doing here?” she gave a him confused smile as she opened the door, wine glass in hand. “Is everything ok?”

“Er, hey,” he lifted up his right hand to wave another bottle of wine and grinned mischievously. “I just realised that we didn’t get to building that tower of furniture!”

She laughed and stepped aside to allow him in.

“You’re ready for bed already,” he observed a tad amused.

She took the wine from him. “I’m not going to bed; I just had a bath and so got my PJs on early.”

In the kitchen she opened the 2nd bottle of wine and grabbed a glass which she held out to Mulder as she joined him on the sofa. She curled up next to him, her feet under her and watched him pour a glass for himself.

“So, what’s this in aid of?” she nodded to his wine glass.

“I owed you after running out on you the other night,” he winked at her as she laughed.

“Don’t worry Mulder,” she smiled. “After over four years with you now, I’m used to you bolting out the door chasing monsters.”

She finished her wine and held out her glass as he refilled it.

“Y’know, the last time you brought wine here it wasn’t actually you.” She narrowed her eyes with mock suspicion before giving him a big smile. She was on her 3rd glass of wine already, on an empty stomach and she could feel her cheeks were flushed already. “So, Eddie, what are your plans this time?”

A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but the sparkle in her eyes chased it away.

“Well, I’m not going to kiss you,” he said carefully, darting her a nervous smile.

“Good,” she smiled, a little saddened but trying to hide it. “Because I am a little bit tipsy and I missed the conference about teamwork so I am not sure what we’re allowed to do under FBI rules.”

They laughed.

“So why tonight?”

“Er, well, I got you stranded in a wet forest for a night and,” he paused for a sip of wine. “Because you’re my best friend and I didn’t like that Eddie got to have this when I hadn’t realised I could.”

“You’ve always been welcome,” she looked at him softly. “Am I really your best friend?”

“Yeah, of course,” he seemed a little shocked she didn’t know. “You’re the only person who has the patience to put up with me and my hare-brained theories.”

“But I don’t agree with you,” she looked at him, her forehead creased.

“But you respect me and hear me out, and you look after me when I decide to go hiking in the middle of a forest with a pair of moth men trying to kill us.”

“To be fair, when the two options are a team-working seminar or a hike in the woods, it’s not a tough decision. Although I could have done without the singing!” she quipped.

He laughed at that and went to top up her glass again.

“Oh, no,” she waved her hand over the top of her glass. “I’ve already had half a bottle and I need to eat otherwise I’ll have a massive headache in the morning.”

She got up and walked a little shakily to the kitchen and pulled out the take-out menus. “Have you eaten yet?” she called out to him.

“No, well, a cereal bar and some leftover popcorn. That’s all I had in the cupboards.”

She rolled her eyes at him and the standard crappy diet he had. “Y’know Mulder,” she handed him the Chinese menu. “You really need to focus a bit more on looking after yourself rather than on monsters and government conspiracies.”

They ate and drank together, laughing and joking. She tried to remind him of all the mad ideas and theories he had had over the years as he countered with some of the leaps she had suggested as she tried to scientifically explain the inexplicable. She shared out the last of the wine and sat back down next to him. They sat quietly for a moment staring at the fire she had got going in the hearth, until she looked over at him and flashed him a cheeky grin which made him laugh.

“You never said what happened at your appointment,” he said quietly, looking over at her tentatively.

“No, I didn’t, did I?” she responded, equally quiet, looking into the fire. She remained silent for a few moments, asking herself if she was drunk enough to broach the subject with Mulder, to make the request. She took a deep swig of wine and steeled herself.

“Dr Parenti is confident that the ova are fine, and that we can start the IVF process.”

She glanced over at him shyly, half-smiling and noted the mixture of surprise and happiness on his face.

“You can start now?” he asked, suddenly worry cut into his happiness.

“The sooner the better,” she confirmed.

“So, do you have to pick out some guy’s sperm from a catalogue then?”

She noted a hint of uneasiness in his voice, like the idea gave him reason for concern.

“Yes, I could,” she paused looking at him, trying to gauge his mood. “Or I can ask someone I know...”

She trailed off, but didn’t look away, scrutinising his face for any hint of emotion.

“I would prefer to know the man who is providing 50% of my child’s DNA,” she continued slowly and carefully. “But most of my male friends are happily married so I couldn’t ask them.”

He was watching her intently, but she sensed an anxiety in him; he seemed uncomfortable and she worried that he knew what she wanted to ask him. She wondered if she should back out of the conversation with a bland statement like “so I don’t know who to ask really” giving him the opportunity to offer his contribution, but she knew he wouldn’t; he’d never assume that it was him she wanted. She took another sip of wine; her mouth felt so dry with nerves.

“So, I was thinking,” she squirmed awkwardly, hoping he’d work it out without her having to say anything more. “I was, well, I was wondering if you might consider...”

His eyes widened in shock, his mouth opened and closed, unable to speak.

“I mean it doesn’t mean anything,” she hurriedly continued, trying to put him at ease. “I wouldn’t expect anything of you; you don’t need to be involved in raising the baby at all, I wouldn’t want you to feel any obligation to me or the child... It would just be you in the fertilisation process.”

He hadn’t moved, nor taken his eyes off her. He seemed incapable of speech.

“I understand if you don’t want to; you’re my work partner and this is probably way past the mark of what is acceptable behaviour between partners...”

“Well it’s not quite a pyramid of furniture,” he quipped, a glint in his eyes.

“No, it’s not,” she looked down at her hands on her lap before looking back at him. “It’s a big ask, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to answer right now; well, unless you are absolutely against the idea...”

She paused, giving him the opportunity to immediately refuse, but his expression didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t want you to worry about saying no, either; I know it’s a lot to ask of any man. I just wanted to check... I don’t expect you to say yes.”

She felt panicked by his silence, but his face wasn’t giving anything away as she studied him. He smiled gently, and his left hand, which was resting on the back of the settee near her head, moved and stroked her face slightly. She felt her face burn red at his touch but she leant into it slightly.

“I am happy that the doc thinks that this can work for you,” he said slowly, measured. “I know how important this is and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the eggs sooner. I feel honoured that you even considered me... I never thought about having kids before.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to be involved; I wouldn’t even tell them you’re their father if you didn’t want me to...”

She trailed off as he interjected. “Hey, it’s fine, I just need time to think it through, ok? It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either; it’s just I gotta think.”

She nodded, her eyes burning with tears as she looked away, afraid that she’d damaged their relationship, such as it was. He seemed to read her mind as he tilted her head up to meet his eyes. She saw such love and kindness in his eyes.

“Just give me a few days, ok?”

She nodded.

He emptied his glass and looked back at her, mischievously. “Have you got another bottle?”

She laughed, relief filling her, and got up to fetch one.


	8. Chapter 8

He couldn’t really feel his legs; he knew that they were there, propelling him down the corridor to his apartment, but it felt like he was like a balloon bobbing along, lazy in the breeze. He had had a lot more alcohol than he normally would which he felt sure accounted for at least part of the sensation – it certainly seemed to be making unlocking his front door a bit more challenging than usual – but the overarching lightness came from spending the evening with her.

They had had a great time together; they had laughed so much. He realised how much he loved spending time with her, without the constraints of having to work at the same time. She was his favourite person in the world, he thought, and he was so glad she was still there beside him, saved from her cancer. He was glad he had finally acted upon his desire to spend an evening with her, just them and a bottle of wine... or two. Ever since he’d seen her about to kiss Eddie Van Blundht, he had been plagued by the thought of kissing her, of her _wanting_ to kiss him. He knew he shouldn’t have been thinking about his colleague like he had... But he blamed the cancer for shining a stark light on the thing he was ignoring.

After Eddie, there was a definite awkwardness between them. She was embarrassed and he just felt wounded. Part of his brain was throwing a Tickertape parade over the idea that she loved him whilst the rest was angry that Eddie had been about to take something that wasn’t his, and being better at being him than he was. They’d not talked about what happened; they had both locked it down, and his mind had been filled with levels of angst better suited to a high school kid than a man in his 30s.

Since she had rocked up at his motel room with wine, he had been berating himself for having his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t notice the overture of the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever known, and instead ran off in search of a moth man. He was beyond stupid. As he had snuggled up in her lap the following night, soaked, cold and in pain, though, he had felt like nothing in the world could touch him as she had him. She was protecting him and he loved how that felt. He loved the smell of her, the warmth of her. He even loved her singing... Which could only mean that he was head over heels in love with her because he was pretty sure that there were pigs who could be more tuneful than her.

Dana Scully had asked him to be the father of her child. No one else. Just him. He felt himself stiffen slightly at the thought. Why him? Of all the men she knew, surely there must be someone better than him? He had never thought about having children... Or had he? He had known that she had wanted them at some point and he knew he wanted to be the only man to have the privilege of sharing her bed. He felt like a flush of hot blood rush from the top of his head down to his crotch at the thought of her naked body against his and told himself off for thinking it.

But, he thought, she had asked him to help her, and it made him wonder if she thought about him the same way he did her. He again thought back to Eddie Van Blundht. There was no doubt that she was going to kiss him and, although she denied it, he still wondered if she already had by the time he got to her. Again, he had to pull himself away from that subject; he’d spent far too long brooding over it already. But that was all he ever did: he brooded, he imagined, he never acted. Tonight, though, he had. Tonight, he’d bought a bottle of wine and gone to her apartment uninvited, just like Eddie had.

It struck him that he had been a fool to tell her that he wasn’t going to kiss her right at start of the evening; had that statement made her not kiss him? He decided that it was irrelevant because, well, because she was so beautiful and intelligent that she was blatantly out of his league. That wasn’t what Eddie had told him though and, even if it were true, since when had he ever complied with leagues and rules and societal expectations?

He promptly wished she was there to talk to. He loved talking with her, spending time with her. They’d worked together so long that they knew what one another was thinking just by looking. That wasn’t always a good thing, he thought, because it had resulted in them not talking about the stuff that mattered; they were scared of losing one another if either of them articulated the unspoken love between them. He laughed to himself.

_Scully finds it easier to ask me to jerk into a cup for her to have my child, than to tell me she loves me... That’s assuming she does love me_.

Again, he doubted himself, doubted he could be loved. He thought that perhaps he should have kissed her, as they could both blame it on the alcohol and ignore it the next morning... But could they have just kissed? Wouldn’t it just snowball like in his dreams? Once they finally opened the floodgates with a kiss, would they not just find themselves madly tumbling into bed together, unable to hold back any longer? There was a lot of pent-up sexual tension between them. He felt himself harden at the thought. But then a cold, sobering thought struck him:

_She asked me to give her some sperm. She didn’t ask me to leap into bed with her. If she can ask for my cum, she could surely ask for a kiss, but she didn’t._

Maybe she had been asking him to kiss her and he hadn’t noticed. She wanted to get them drunk in the motel... but that must have been to ask about the baby thing though. The baby thing. Him as a father. He thought about how ridiculous that seemed. He wasn’t responsible enough for that. Hell, she was always cleaning up after him; he was the baby in their relationship, not a co-parent.

He suddenly softened at the image of her pregnant, shining with a maternal bliss and he knew in that instant that of course he would help her out because he would be devastated by the thought that anyone else could be the father of her child. He wanted it to be his seed that saw her belly swell. A love for her he never knew he could have hit him like a tidal wave; she was the mother of his child, she was the only woman he could love, she was his future.

He felt overwhelmed by this new love for his partner and steadied himself.

_You’re drunk Mulder. Go to sleep, get sober and deal with this in the morning.  
_


	9. Chapter 9

She’d spent the next few days at the Quantico research centre with various colleagues examining the remains of the “moth man” she’d shot and killed. Mulder had stayed away and she felt a sickened knot in her stomach whenever she thought about him. She was grateful that the case was so interesting as every time she found her mind drifting, one of her colleagues would excitedly discover a new revelation or learning from their investigations. There was so much to write up; they were planning to publish a scientific paper on the creature, whatever it turned out to be.

She worried that she overstepped the mark, that she’d freaked him out and he was hiding from her, but when she spoke to Skinner, he had said that Mulder had picked up a case he was working alone as Skinner had deemed it not as important as the work she was doing at Quantico. She had wondered if Mulder may have downplayed the case to Skinner to avoid her but, when she asked about it, it was definitely just one of Mulder's little forays and certainly nothing that warranted two agents' travel and motel costs.

It was four days after she’d asked Mulder and she was sure he was working out a way to tell her no, and of course he should; the idea of a work colleague proffering up his DNA for her to have a child was just insane. The sooner he apologised and said no, the sooner they could sweep it under the carpet and continue their lives as if it never happened, as they yet again swept away the emotions they felt for one another.

She’d taken home some of the results of their findings and was thinking about sitting down at her desk to start writing it up, when there was the knock on her door. She knew his knock; knew the weight of the request she had made of him. The more she had thought about it, the more convinced she had become that he would decline. Their work situation aside, he didn’t seem ready for kids, ready to settle down. She steeled herself and opened the door.

It was an awkward hello to one another. He smiled at her strangely, almost like he was forcing it as he stepped into her apartment.

“Can I take your coat?” she offered, trying to stay cool even though she was quaking nervously in anticipation of him awkwardly apologising to her.

“No, I can’t stay,” he barely looked at her, and she saw his eyes return to her door like he was desperate to escape. “I gotta get back to the office for a while.”

She didn’t ask why; she knew he would be wanting to run away from her as soon as possible. His eyes nervously darted between her, the floor and the door. She took in a breath and opened:

“Obviously you’ve had some time to think about my request.”

“Um, it's... it's not something that I get asked to do every day,” he started. “Um, but I am absolutely flattered...”

On hearing the “but” she’d closed her eyes and sighed in painful acknowledgement that he was refusing his help, which was completely his right to do, not least of all the professional thing to do.

He saw her response and assumed she had reacted because she thought he was simply being polite saying he was flattered. “No, honestly,” he tried to reassure her.

She looked down at the floor, unable to make eye contact, keen to get his refusal out of him quickly. “Okay, if... if you're trying to politely say ‘no,' it's okay. I, I understand.”

“See what's weird is... this sounds, and this sounds really weird, I know, but I, I just wouldn't want this to come between us,” he nervously continued.

“Yeah,” she paused, devastation crashing over her. “I know... I, I understand. I do.”

She hung her head, wanting to hide her eyes from him as they welled up with tears. In her mind she knew he was right; he had no obligation to her, they weren’t married, nor even dating. It was insane of her to ask him, but her heart had to because he was the _only_ man to her. Her chest felt like her heart was on fire; he was rejecting her as well as her child. He didn’t love her and she had been mad to ask him.

His hand reaching out towards her pulled her focus back on to his face, which wasn’t fraught with apology or shame for rejecting her. His eyes were bright, fixed on her, and filled with love.

“But... the answer is yes,” he smiled at her.

She was absolutely shocked. She’d convinced herself he’d say no and had been preparing for it since she’d asked him, but he wasn’t running for the hills, he wasn’t thinking she was insane, he was there, right before her as he always was, unspeakingly loving her. Her tears of sadness turned into tears of joy as his acceptance washed over her. She felt so humbled that he was doing this, that he loved her enough to do this for her and a smile broke across her face as she stepped towards him and embraced him in such gratitude, relief and love. She felt him smiling and for a moment they seemed suspended in a space where, for once, they weren’t hiding from the love between them but allowing themselves to open the box slightly and peak inside.

She forced herself to focus and pulled away from him before the temptation to kiss his forehead took hold; she sensed that that kiss could only be followed by another on his cheek, before meeting his lips, and that scared her, even though they both seemed to be acknowledging that they loved one another with his acceptance of her request.

“Um... Well, I'll call Dr Parenti and,” she tried to regather her self-control, again avoiding eye contact, almost afraid of the warmth and love in his eyes as they beamed at her.

“I assume that he'll want to meet you and go through the, uh, the donor procedure,” she tried to be as professional, as 'Dr Scully', as possible but squirmed slightly in embarrassment.

“Oh, at that part, I’m a pro.”

She was grateful for his stepping in to save her blushes and he grinned at her. She smiled shyly back at him briefly before he headed for the door. She guessed that he didn’t really need to head back to the office at this late hour, but was grateful that he had set up that excuse at the start to handle the awkwardness of his leaving.


	10. Chapter 10

“That was not how I ever imagined making a baby with you to be!”

She raised a playful, questioning eyebrow.

“Not that I ever imagined...” his eyes wide with shock and embarrassment, as his cheeks flushed.

She laughed at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s ok Mulder. I know what you meant.” She knew he had meant exactly what he’d just said but she took sympathy on him. “It’s not what I imagined either.” 

They looked at one another, each wondering if the other had been sharing a daydream of them making love before she too blushed and looked away, putting the wall back up between them. It wasn’t the right time yet. But when would it be, she wondered?

He’d gone over to Zeus Genetics in his lunch hour as she tried to busy herself and not think about what he was doing, and the hope that might come from it. She hadn’t eaten; she couldn’t, feeling sick at the thought of how important this day would be. She had wondered if he had been thinking about her as he was in that room, or whether the plethora of pornographic material available was a bit like his version of heaven. She decided that it would be the latter and she had smiled about future opportunities to tease him on the matter.

There was a tense silence in the office that afternoon; the air pregnant with a thousand questions, of emotions not spoken, of a hope not dreamed of. She was running over and over what it meant that Mulder had agreed to become the father of her child. Did he do it because he loved her? Because, like her, he couldn’t bear the idea of another man being the father? Or did he do it because he felt guilty and it was the least he could do? What did he want out of this? Will he want to be a part of the child’s life or to remain anonymous? 

She knew that they should have talked through all of this, but they never did. She felt that he didn’t know what he wanted, that he might not know until he held his child in his arms. She imagined his heart melting; a love he couldn’t comprehend take hold of him and she sensed that, in that moment, they would know they were bound to one another forever and they would no longer be able to ignore how they felt about one another. She allowed herself to dream of him holding their child between them and him kissing her; she dreamt of them being a family.

They were both jolted out of their private reveries by the phone. She grabbed it immediately and answered. She could see Mulder tensed and anxious, his entire focus on her, trying to read her face for clues as she gave short responses to whoever had called: “yes,” “no,” “thank you.” She put the phone down, her hand pausing on it, staring at it.

He couldn’t handle the suspense. “Well?” he fidgeted. “Did they pass the test?”

She looked up at him and grinned. “Yes Mulder, your sperm are active and numerous.”

He breathed out, his entire body visibly relaxing. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was as worried about his fertility as she had been, that he hadn’t assumed his sperm wouldn’t be up for the task.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“Well, they’ll put them in with my ova and hopefully some of them will get fertilised, ready for implantation,” she sounded calmer, more detached than she was. She had her cool doctor façade but inside she was anything but calm and collected. She found herself wanting to be in his arms, to be hugged, to be held. She sucked in a breath and tried to regather herself and distract herself with work, but he was just watching her. She was curious about what he was thinking and tried to read his face without wanting to meet his gaze. Eventually he looked away and continued trying to work, but she knew that he had wanted her to look at him and give him permission to talk. She just wasn’t ready.

“Do you think they’re past the polite stage yet?” He helped her into her coat as they readied to leave the office.

“Mulder, if they’re anything like you, they probably haven’t even noticed there’s a girl in the room,” she teased. “They’re probably wondering when the Kleenex is going to rock up.”

“Hey!” he feigned offence.

She turned and looked at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a big grin on her face and he relented and sighed his agreement.

“Dinner?” she asked without thinking.

“With me?” he was almost as surprised as she was.

“No, Mulder, with the little green man standing behind you.”

He turned to check and, when he turned back to her his eyes were narrowed sceptically: “you know most evidence points to them being grey, not green.”

“You have evidence?!” she raised that eyebrow he loved.

“Well...” he trailed off seeing the playfulness in her eyes and shook his head slightly. He studied her for a moment; she seemed vibrant, full of energy and life. It was the first time since her illness that he’d seen her like this. Eventually he realised she was staring at him questioningly and he was confused.

“Dinner?” she prompted him.

“Oh, right, yeh,” he stumbled, whilst nodding before flicking off the lights and locking the door behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

She hauled herself out of bed. She’d hardly slept with nerves over what this day held, even though she had collapsed into bed exhausted after a late journey home from Indiana. She smiled at the thought of the final evening of their stay. They’d been to a Cher tribute act in a bar with a strangely deformed man who had been the focus of an investigation several months earlier. It was a mad mission to go back there for the gig, but she smiled as she thought about how big a charade Mulder had thought up just so he could dance with her. She didn’t care though; she’d loved him pulling her up into his arms. It was exactly the fun they both needed.

It was a date disguised as a case. Or rather as closing the case. The only way they’d ever do a date; nothing so standard as asking one another out, always some other reason. Although they did get dinner regularly... But wasn’t that just friendship? She knew that they were so backwards at going forwards it was impossible to know what the hell they were doing with one another. But last night had been wonderful and she’d so enjoyed it. It was exactly what they needed to distract them from her appointment today.

The appointment. Seven days earlier three of her fertilised eggs had been implanted into her uterus, which had been flooded with hormones in preparation. They were the only ova which were fertilised, the only ones which had ultimately been viable. Three clusters of cells, each completely unique, but each combining her and Mulder’s genes. She shut her eyes tight trying to stop herself from going down the path which always led to more angst, the path where she imagined them as a proper couple.

She heard his familiar knock and his key in the door.

“Hello!” he called as he closed the door behind him.

She poked her head around the bathroom door to hum a greeting to him, enabling him to see that she was brushing her teeth and not ready yet for the day. Spitting and swilling, she pulled her dressing gown about her and went to him in the kitchen.

“Here you go!” he slid a decaf coffee from Starbucks over to her. “You look good.”

Her forehead scrunched up in disbelief. “Mulder, I look like crap; I need a shower, and clothes and hair-sorting and make-up,” she complained. He just shrugged and took a sip of his fully caffeinated double espresso.

“Well I think you look fine.”

She huffed a little and smiled at him, shaking her head. He was truly the most clueless man she had ever known. But, so long as he was cluelessly focused on her, she didn’t mind. He matched her smile with a look of such love she couldn’t understand how they hadn’t kissed yet. His eyes dropped to her lower belly, before looking back up at her; she saw the same look of fear and controlled excitement in his face as hers. Semi-consciously her hand went down and stroked what she hoped was their unborn child, before sighing.

“What time’s the appointment?” he asked, even though she knew he had it branded on his memory just like she did.

“4pm,” she took a deep swig of the coffee, wishing it was caffeinated, and that she hadn’t just brushed her teeth.

“Do you want me to, er, come?” he looked at her gently.

“No,” she said too quickly. “I mean not really... I guess you have as much right as me, but I just, do you mind?” she trailed off.

“Sure, I understand,” he simply responded. “I know this isn’t a normal situation; we’re not a couple... I am just a friend, er, helping you out.”

She couldn’t do anything more than just smile at him somewhat sadly, but her mind was racing with anxiety and fear of what the day would bring. She felt herself welling up but he just put down his coffee before closing the gap between them and embracing her. It was exactly what she needed. The only pressure on her in that room was the pressure she was putting on herself, not from him; he was just there to be beside her no matter what.

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Hey, don’t think about it; I’ll always be here for you,” he kissed her hair.

After a while he pulled back, and studying her face, he gently encouraged her: “C’mon you, go get washed and you can drive me to work. I’ll come back for my car later.”

She realised that he would be coming back to hers to be beside her no matter the result of her blood test and irrespective as to whether he was going to the appointment or not. She nodded and headed to her shower.

There was a palpable tension all morning. Skinner clocked it in their meeting, debriefing him on the outcome of that Frankenstein case they’d finished off the night before.

“Are you two ok?” He looked up at them from the report, concerned by their locked down behaviour.

“Yes sir,” she hastily responded before Mulder had a chance. “I just have a follow up with my doctor today, so I will need to finish early.”

Skinner stared at her, then over to Mulder who was staring at his feet, clearly bothered by something, and then back to her where he noted a pleading look in her eyes, begging him to just drop it. He sighed.

“Well, you take the time you need, Agent Scully,” he clipped with his military manners. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He stood as a sign to them that they were dismissed and Scully was out the door before he’d even managed to open it for them. Mulder shot him an anxious look as he left, unusually quiet.

As the lift doors opened in the basement, where they were abandoned to work alone, she laughed. Mulder looked up at her bemused.

“Could you imagine what Skinner would think if he knew what was really going on here?!” she chuckled.

He studied her slightly bewildered before joining her in her amusement with a little chuckle.

“I think he’d be pissed,” he paused, and then, slowly, “I don’t think he’d be as surprised as we’d think.”

She pierced him with her unflinching gaze as she measured out her response.

“Perhaps not,” she said quietly. “But maybe by the how, rather than anything else.”

It was another one of those comments that said everything they knew without saying anything at all, and they stared at one another in silence for a few moments.

“I know it’s all weird but not,” stumbled Mulder. “But I really hope they’ve taken.”

“Me too.”


	12. Chapter 12

They hadn’t taken. She wasn’t pregnant. She would never be pregnant. All hope was smashed; it was over. She simultaneously wished Mulder was there to support her and that he wasn’t, to save her from having to tell him she’d failed him. It had always been a long shot. IVF success rate was lower than the failure rate and she’d tried to keep that at the forefront of her mind, but she couldn’t help but hope, and allow her mind to drift into imagining how her life would be with a child.

But, again, she found herself walking, lost and alone and defeated. The despair she’d felt a few weeks earlier had been temporarily paused but now it was back and it all felt so final this time. Before the end of the month her uterus would shed its lining along with 3 embryos and the future she had dreamed of. How bitter that period will be, she thought; how angry she would be with it, as it sheds her hope. She was angry with her body, angry that her uterus hadn’t taken care of and nurtured those tiny little lives. Why didn’t it look after those precious loads? Why didn’t it want to hold on to the unspoken love she had for Mulder?   
Perhaps they didn’t take because she wasn’t willing to be open with their father? This was nonsense of course, but maybe, just maybe, her body would have protected those embryos better if she wasn’t protecting herself from the risk of loving Mulder.

Mulder. She’d let him down properly this time. This time he was an actual, conscious part of this attempt to have children, as opposed to a daydream in a hypothetical scenario. She licked the salty tears from her lips and plunged her hands in her coat pockets to hunt for a tissue. She noticed a man pass by, clearly perturbed by her emotional state and her need to be somewhere quiet and discreet became more urgent. She didn’t want to drive. She needed to walk, as though it would help her express her pain and anger, but she walked with direction, heading to her church.

The church was silent. The sound of her pew creaking as she sat down seemed to echo loudly; an incongruous off note disturbing the peace and serenity of her sanctuary. She bowed her head against her votive hands and felt her grief overwhelm her as she broke down. Every so often she would try to regain control, but looking up, seeing the figure of Mary cradling her infant son, stuck her to the heart. She was angry with Mary for flaunting her reproductive miracle; she was angry at God for letting her down, ignoring all her prayers; she was angry at her family for extolling the virtues of parenthood and the impending arrival of her nephew. She was angry at the men who did this to her, who violated her; angry at the cancer they gave her, the ova they took from her, angry that they felt entitled to destroy lives as they had for their own selfish needs. She was angry at Mulder for not protecting her, for putting her in the position of target. She was angry with herself for being angry at everyone, especially those she loved. She was angry at herself for not holding on to those embryos, not protecting them, not nourishing them, not enabling them to grow.

When she could do no more, she pulled herself up out of the pew and silently headed back to her car, numbed. It was already dark. Winter was rushing ahead; shops and houses were beginning to glint with festive lights, joyfully anticipating the holiday season.

She opened the door to the apartment. It was dark, but Mulder got up from the settee to greet her. She had known he’d be there waiting for her to return, waiting to hear if she was pregnant. Waiting to hear if he’s going to be a father or not. She had felt before that she was letting him down but, suddenly to see him there before her, she felt a great weight crushing her chest. Here was this man – a man she wasn’t romantically involved with, a work colleague – who had been willing to help her have a child, almost sacrificially for love of her as someone in his life. There was something about how he got up that made her realise that he had wanted this child too; whether he started this journey with her out of his guilt over her abduction or just wanting to be a good friend to her, he had ended up ready to be the father of their child. And now she had to end that.

Her eyes filled with tears again as he mentioned that he’d dozed off and their eyes met, her slowly stepping towards him. Words choked in her throat even at the thought of saying them; she couldn’t speak. His eyes saddened as he read the grief on her face.

“It didn’t take, did it?” It was more of an acknowledgement than a question.

“I guess it was too much to hope for,” was all she could say.

He shook his head and moved towards her, his arms out to gather her in as she stepped helplessly into him and she broke down and sobbed.

“It was my last chance,” she choked out, devastated.

The hug between them tightened until eventually she pulled away slightly. He kissed her forehead; the place she reserved for him and he for her, the safe place where they hovered, still afraid to go any further. They rested there for a moment, forehead to forehead. If he’d have kissed her on the lips in that moment, she knew she would give in completely to him; she hadn’t the energy to fight her emotions, and she so desperately wanted to be held, to be loved. She sensed that he knew this; that part of him needed that consolation too, but they knew that wasn’t the right way to go down that path; it would burn them up and see them fall apart.

“Never give up on a miracle,” he told her.

She didn’t believe in miracles, but she was grateful for his words all the same. She moved to kiss him somewhere between his cheek and the edge of his mouth, almost willing him to move his lips to hers, before cuddling into him again.


	13. Epilogue - Mulder

It broke his heart to see her in so much pain, and a part of his heart cracked open too. He wasn’t sure if it cracked from the damage within, or if it cracked under the pressure from without. From without her, without their baby.

He knew they would both deal with this together quietly, unspoken, and to the rest of the world no one would know until years later that any of this had happened. They would hide their feelings in their work, never letting go of one another disguised in working cases. He had worried deeply about her going to San Diego for the holidays, far from his side, surrounded by her unknowing family and a sister-in-law ready to give birth whilst she’s there. He knew how strong she had to be; she wouldn’t want them to know anything, yet her heart would be breaking with the pain and envy of Tara's maternity.

She had called him one day when she was down there, but couldn’t formulate the words and hung up. She didn’t tell him, but he traced the call back and knew it was from her, in pain, needing him. She later told him the agony of Tara ignorantly speaking of how life without children was lesser, how her mother had told her off for being cold, causing her to reveal her infertility. He wished he’d been there to protect her from it all.

He never anticipated what would happen in those weeks, her already broken heart being shattered even more at the discovery of her daughter, Emily, born of another woman, a human incubator, and doomed to die. Her desperation at that point to be a mother had amplified it all so much that she had called him down to give evidence at a family court in support of her adopting the daughter who, by rights, belonged to her. He had had to tell her everything he knew about the tests and the ova, the cloning programmes, as he too learnt more about how they seemed to be trying to make human-alien hybrids of which Emily was born only to die too soon.

It ripped her apart. The conspirators and their malevolence, their lack of care for the lives they damage, break, end and create again: they didn’t care about Scully, or Emily, Melissa, Samantha, his father... The list was too long already, and all because she worked with him.

He had wanted to have a child with Dana Scully. Not because he felt guilty for what happened, not because he simply wanted to help a friend, not because he felt sorry for her, but because he was in love with her. He had to believe in miracles; he would always believe in them, for both of them. For their unborn child.


	14. Epilogue - Scully

A miracle. _Never give up on a miracle._ How did he always have such faith and belief? How was he so irritatingly right all the time? A miracle. This baby boy, their son, William.

They had been so afraid due to all that had happened to her since being assigned to work with him; all the tests, the illness, the infertility, losing him and getting him back again. But now here they are, the three of them, a family, and not because of any medical intervention. This beautiful, amazing little boy had been simply made out of their love, the most natural, most obvious reason there is.

As she had imagined all those years earlier, here he was beside her, holding their child between them, kissing her. They were complete.


End file.
